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Lance looked down at his bowl. He didn't know how the humans on this ship called this green crap food. Perhaps Romo was just too damn lazy to get him the good stuff. Humans and their mixed up priorities. Dammit, the man was going to get him some tuna, no matter what he was doing currently.
Lance crept back into the room, squezing through the crack in the door. Thankfully Romo had failed to seal it all the way. Three inches was more than enough space.
Lance meowed. Tuna, he indicated with a glare in Romo's direction.
"I thought you put him outside?" someone not Romo asked. Frak. Other lawyer guy was back. Again. For the third time this week. Naked. Again.
"Damn cat," said Romo, making his way off the bed and picking Lance up. Lance meowed again, one that Romo should know meant 'put me down.'
He did. Outside the door, right in front of the food bowl. "I already fed you. Right there," he said. "Damn cat," he muttered, then shut the door, sealing it this time.
Lance looked down at the green mush in the bowl again. I didn't ask for this when I asked for food, he thought. He was so not eating that.